


Where Our Spirits Lie

by JeromeSankara



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But Kinda Compliant, Character Death, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Discord: IronStrange Haven, I Wrote This Instead of 30 Other Things, Implied Relationships, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), The Cloak is a Character Dammit, Wakes & Funerals, We Die Like Men, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: In the wake of the final snap, there is a funeral. A funeral for the one who saved them all.
Relationships: Stephen Strange & Wong, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	Where Our Spirits Lie

It was small. Smaller than most funerals. The casket was closed, a blessing really. No one needed to see the aftermath. No one  _ wanted _ to be reminded of why they were here. The price that had been paid. Yet here they were.

It was also peaceful. Stephen appreciated the peacefulness. There were flowers, gifts, cards, all surrounding the feet of the casket. It was more than Stephen had expected, if he was completely honest.

He glanced down, pulling at the sleeves of his suit with his shaking left hand. The suit didn’t fit. The attempt of using one of his old suits from his past was hardly a good idea. He huffed softly beneath his breath. Wong had tried to insist on resizing the suit, but what had been the point? He was only going to wear it once. No one was going to notice.

Standing in the shadows of the funeral was not where he expected to be, but there was of course no chair for him. He watched as each person paid their individual respects to the casket. Some he knew were there more out of obligation than anything else. Others he knew would feel the ache of the loss for many years.

The woman in black, brushing her hands over the mahogany wood, her cheeks momentarily dry. She would wonder why she wasn’t able to save him. If she had worked faster, if she had tried harder. Their complicated relationship now were memories, ones she wasn’t sure she’d want to hold onto. She could heal, now. Stephen wanted her to heal.

The woman stepped back after a few moments, and he could see the trail of a new tear from saying goodbye.

Many people were saying goodbye today. Some had only known him for hours, others it would feel like a lifetime. There were people Stephen didn’t recognize, which was amusing. He scoffed under his breath. Such a tiny funeral, yet it still felt swollen with grief.

Stephen’s own tears had long since dried. He knew that there would be peace. The weight on their shoulders was lifted. The world would rebuild.

The closest friend was next. He, too, lingered with his hands against the wood, pausing, as if he was considering opening the casket to see his dear friend one last time. They both knew better. Let the last memory not be stained by gruesome afterimages. He stayed longer, words whispered under his breath, of sorrow and remorse, of promises of the future. The man would not be able to grieve long; there was too much work to do. Yet he will carry it in his heart for the rest of his life.

As he stepped away, Stephen started to walk forward. It was a beautiful casket, all things considered. Probably expensive. More than likely expensive. Such a strange thing to pay so much money on, only to be lowered into the ground forever. Reaching out with his left hand, he brushed against the wood like so many others. A final resting place with feign comforts. He would not feel them. He couldn’t feel them now.

The final moments of the life that had left the body beneath ran through his head again. The gauntlet, bright red and created to bring the world back together. All six stones, coursing with power, along with the promise that anything he dreamed of to become reality. In that moment, there had been many fleeting wishes.

For the safety of those left behind.

For love, for family, for eternal happiness.

Even for his hands to be healed.

Stephen chose none of those.

A hand rested through his own.

“You are such an asshole.”

Stephen smirked and turned, letting his body drift to the side in order to let Tony through.

Tony. It was a surprise that he came. It was a surprise that his flashy self had been dulled down to a black suit and black tie. Here Stephen had been expecting something red. The sharpness in his eyes had been dulled, and his voice was hushed.

“You told me that there was only one outcome that we won. This isn’t winning.”

_ “Yes, it is,” _ Stephen hummed, knowing that his voice would not reach him. It would reach no one. As long as the burnt body in the casket remained lifeless, so would he.  _ “We won.” _

Tony’s hand clenched on the wood, before finally drawing back. He didn’t leave. He stood, whiskey eyes running across the deep red wood that hid his body. Maybe he was imagining the body beneath, the same charred, smoking corpse he had been left with days ago. Stephen let his gaze trail down to his own right side. The suit hung on his body there, the mass stripped away, and he swore that if he wasn’t an apparition, his arm would have fallen off long ago.

The morticians had tried their best, but handling his body had been a challenge with the gamma radiation from the gauntlet. Dressing him in a suit had been dangerous enough. There had been the idea of cremation, but the other sorcerers had refused it. Keep the sorcerer supreme’s body intact. Apparently they planned on securing his casket with runes and sealing it, to make sure that no beings with ill intentions would try to possess it. Cremating would release some magical residue, Stephen hadn’t been there for the entire conversation. He had not handled the Ancient One’s body after her death, and it wasn’t in any of the books he read. Maybe they were just talking out of their ass so he wouldn’t be buried like any ordinary person.

His focus was pulled back as Tony reached out again, this time draping something across the casket. Stephen’s heart immediately ached.

The Cloak of Levitation had been an innocent victim to the snap. He should have told the Cloak to leave, but it did not. It refused. It wrapped around his arm and gauntlet, securing it so no one could pull it away. Had it not done that, maybe they wouldn’t have this outcome. Maybe Thanos would have snatched it back. Maybe Tony, who had been trying to stop him, would have snapped instead.

It was better this way.

“Wong tried to stitch your cape together.”

_ “Cloak,” _ Stephen corrected.

“I don’t know if it had a spirit or what made it move, but it’s not there anymore. Maybe it’s with you. I don’t know. Thought you should have it back.”

_ “Thank you.” _

Tony looked like he wanted to step away, his gift being passed on, but something held him there. His eyes began to glisten. Stephen felt his nonbeating heart clench. There shouldn’t be sadness in those eyes.

“I just…” Tony started, then clenched his teeth together. His eyes flicked between the Cloak to the casket, then to the flowers, the gifts, everything that surrounded it. “You didn’t have to do this. I know it should have been me. And I was ready to give it up. But your selfish assholeness decided that you wouldn’t let me do that. And…”

A long sigh slipped from Tony’s lips, whatever anger he had pulled together for the speech vanishing as soon as it came. Stephen was sure that Tony would be struggling with this survivor’s guilt for a long time. He knew Tony. Better than Tony would ever know.

“I’m going to make sure you aren’t forgotten.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone out there is celebrating the Avengers. They don’t care about you and I  _ hate it. _ I don’t want to be in a fucking parade, I don’t want to get knighted in England for whatever goddamn reason. I want to know you. I want  _ them _ to know you. I want to tell them about the snarky asshole with a big red cape-”

_ “Cloak.” _

“-who could read the future, who could swallow a black hole, who saved the world, who saved  _ Iron Man. _ And I’ll… tell them that I’m not your favorite ice cream. And I’ll tell them that I want to see you again. Because that time wasn’t enough.”

Tony placed his hands on the wood, running his fingers across it over and over, bumping into the lifeless Cloak that was draped across it. “I promise that. Okay? It’s not much. And I want to do so much more for you,  _ with you, _ but right now, it’s all I got.”

He paused, hands stilling. The glistening in his eyes turned to just a couple tears, running down his face without being brushed away. A smile twitched onto his face. “Save me a spot up there, wherever you are. I’m gonna give you a piece of my mind when it’s my turn.”

_ “And I’ll be waiting patiently.” _   


“Not anytime soon, though.”

_ “Of course.” _

With one final pat on the casket, Tony finally stepped back. “Thank you,” he murmured, then turned to leave. Stephen watched him, and for a moment, he wanted to follow, but he was tethered to the sack of flesh sitting in the casket. He watched as the visitors slowly filed out, one by one, from the Avengers showing their appreciation, to the few friends he had left in Christine. Even Peter had come, yet he could not step up to the casket. That was okay, though. Because he knew how the boy had stumbled to his body after the snap, begging the doctor to come back.

They had tried, oh how they had tried. Wong had hope, as if the sacrifice the Cloak had made would somehow save his life. It just meant that he held on a little longer, long enough for his spirit to watch Wong open a portal to the hospital, practically flinging his body at a startled Christine.

If there was one thing Stephen wished, he wished that Christine would have never seen him like that. She deserved better than to be the one to watch his final breath under her hands. She deserved so much more from him. There had been no saving his life, Stephen knew that. The very fact that he lived for minutes after was only because of his body’s unwillingness to die so easily, of magic trying to repair itself, trying to keep his heart beating. All it succeeded in was making the end that much more painful.

But it was a small price to pay for the world to heal. He may have even added a few special requests to repair parts of the world in his snap, something he had no idea actually happened. The stones could have been very fickle, even the time stone.

“My friend.”

The words snapped Stephen back to himself, or at least to his spirit, and he blinked. The room had emptied, all except for one man. Wong.

He stood beside the casket, pulling the Cloak off of the casket and draping it on a nearby chair. Beside him was a box of smoldering herbs.

Of course Wong knew.

“You may rest now. Please. You’ve done your duty.” Wong murmured, before he reached for the handle of the casket and pulled it open.

Stephen winced. Really, he hated the look of himself. Death did not do him any favors in appearance. But he was saved from focusing on his body by Wong picking the limp Cloak back up and draping it across his suited body. At the same moment, he felt the familiar weight upon his shoulders. It laid limp for just a moment, before life, sort of, rushed back into the fabric and curled tight around him. It had not been restored, still burned and ripped, but it was enough for now.

_ “Hello again,” _ Stephen chuckled, reaching his intact hand and running across the shoulder.  _ “I missed you, too.” _

The Cloak only squeezed tighter.

Wong, after situation the Cloak to cover his body in near entirely, thank the Vishantis because he was tired of looking at it, reached back to the herbs. A mix of sage, with a few others he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It seemed there was just a bit of voodoo magic within the sacred arts after all. “I will miss you,” Wong sighed. “I will eat double the ice cream in your honor.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. There was no need for a special occasion for Wong to do that.

“Pass peacefully. We will meet again.”

_ “Thank you, Wong. I look forward to it.” _

As Wong started to spread the smoldering herbs across his body, Stephen closed his eyes.  _ “I look forward to seeing all of you again,” _ were the last words that left his lips before the last of his essence vanished from the living world. The next time he would open them, he hoped to be greeted with light.

And he was.


End file.
